


Return to Enchansia

by miss_nettles_wife



Category: Sofia the First (Cartoon)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-25
Updated: 2015-02-25
Packaged: 2018-03-15 01:06:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3432419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miss_nettles_wife/pseuds/miss_nettles_wife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He is there long after the other slaves have all left, hauling the last of the rocks to their destination. He bitterly wonders what the king will use so many stones for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Return to Enchansia

There's two things to be said about the life of a slave. It's hard, but short. He doesn't like much to think about it, how he ended up here, what he was missing by being here, he family he'd used to have. The people he'd used to know.   
At first he'd still had the memories to comfort himself with. He knew that child slaves were rarely treated so poorly as an adult, and Amber and Sofia would be better even more, since he knew that the Queen of Samaria had purchased Sofia, but had been too late to save anyone else. It had taken a lot of money to convince Cedric to give her up. He wonders how much she went for. Probably more than him, as weak as he had been.   
But one can only hold on to memories for so long, but much like all slaves in the end, he lost himself in the pain of it. He didn't talk or make mention of his family. He forgot them, because it hurt him to much to think of them.   
He's surprised to be back in Enchsia after so many years. How many, he's not sure, but there had been many winters between when he was booted off the throne and now. Of course he didn't know what because to him, all of the days had blurred, and turned into one giant lump.   
No matter where he is, or what it's like ,he can always rely on markets to be the same. The sun would be hot, or the wind would chill him to the bone. There would be food and water once a day, and then they would all sleep in one tent. This time was no different. He was not worth as much as he used to be . With his good looks long faded and his skin turning a sort of grey, more like a corpse than a living man.   
Long ago, after Cedric first sent him away, he was worth more money than anyone would know what to do with. At first, he hadn't been worried, he'd thought that someone he knew would save him, or even save his family but no such luck.   
No such luck.   
It hurts more than he thinks it should to think of his first home. They paraded him around, and dressed him in jewels, but he was little more than an ornament to be stowed away in the darkness when not being looked at. He's shocked he lasted as long as he did. The sparkles laced his skin and they shone in the light. He walks barefoot around the castle, unable to help with other preparations, but yet still feeling relieved. He wonders if they know who he is.   
He frets that he is being to forget as well.   
He was captured during a raid, unable to really run when adorned in so many jewels. He tried to flee captivity, run and be free. He didn't even need his castle he just wanted his freedom, but again, no such luck.   
He could almost remember the face of the next king, and he wonders if he will be released but he is not. Rather than being an ornament he becomes a servant. He serves food and drink. He bows when he must and addressed anyone higher than him with respect. He forgets that he used to be the highest. He is tired when he finally makes it to his bed in the evening. He forgets that his pillow is little more than a padded log, and his blankets are little more than a canvas sack.   
He'd only had one more master before this market. This master was different. Unlike the previous ones who only had cause to hurt him when he made a mistake, this one, however, did not. He simply wanted Roland to be used as a training dummy. He wonders what he had ever done to deserve this.   
He doesn't have a way to count how long he is here. He wishes that he could just be allowed to die. He strikes Roland with no mercy, running his body with his weapons and never allowing him time to heal.   
More in the present now, he knows that only bad things will happen to him from here on out. He can feel it, like he can feel the rain on his bare flesh. The rain is icy cold, and it eats away at his flesh while he sits here. No free men come to the market today. No one wants to leave comfort in this icy weather.   
He wishes he'd had comfort to begin with.   
It's late in the afternoon before anyone shows their face at the markets today. Roland is not used to the extended silence and it really gets to him. He may be hallucinating by the time the new browser examines him. He can swear he hears a name being calling, but there is no one reacting to it but him, and he doesn't even know if it's his name anyway.   
The lone browser is well dressed, and familiar to him, but he doesn't react, if he forgot this person it must have been for a good reason. Afterall, it was hardly like anyone would recognize him. Having no access to a mirror, Roland has no idea what he looks like, but he can feel that he looks different.   
Hidden under the dirt, all the beauty he'd once held had been stolen from him. Small scars dottled the left side of his face, as the result of having his face pushed down onto the gravel for God knows how long, his nose was crooked, having been broken so many times, he's amazed he still has it, much so that it still works. His bottom lip has a scar though the left side of it, and the skin around his right eye looked like it had been burned. (it had) Even so, if one looked hard enough you would be able to see that this was indeed the rightful king of enchantia.  
The man passes, and he doesn't consider it any loss.   
Towards nightfall, he, and several other slaves are collected, and taken to an ugly carriage. They are loaded in, and settled. They stared quietly at one another, he doesn't know any of these slaves, but they are all tall and strong, like him. Or at least, they had been once.   
They are taken to the palace and he feels such a sense of familiarity that he just cannot explain as he makes his way past the palace and to the lands behind it. He discovers they will be serving as labourers and gardeners. they will begin tomorrow, but for tonight they will rest.   
The next day comes for to quickly, and he is put to work hauling stones closer to the palace to build something. They didn't tell the slaves what. It's back breaking, hard work, and at the end of the day, they are fed little.   
He realized, the next day, that he was not working for the palace. The palace slaves all look well fed and cared for. None of them look like he does. He envies them.   
The man that he was working for did not hold those beliefs. He sees the king walking through the garden one afternoon, and he fears him. He is a menacing man that looks like he would break the slaves if he touched them.   
They keep their heads down and they work hard when the king passes them by, all of them praying that he will not approach them. The rocks feel so much heavier than they had previously. Another slave's rock falls from his fingers and onto his foot, Roland abandons his rock gathering to help the other, putting himself at risk, perhaps, but he couldn't let another suffer. He removes the rock, and is relieved to find that the foot is still useable. He orders the other to sit and rest, and he will do his work.   
He is there long after the other slaves have all left, hauling the last of the rocks to their destination. He bitterly wonders what the king will use so many stones for.   
The slave who dropped the rock is gone by the next morning, or perhaps it was in the night, but by the time Roland made it to their sleeping shack it was too late for him to see properly. He feels a sense of loss about himself.   
The king is back that day, with his head held high, Roland does his best to stay away, but has to pass him to put the rocks on the pile, he can feel the man's eyes on his scarred back.   
In fact, most of him is scarred.   
Arms, legs, chest, stomach...All of them. The scars ranged from huge burns that had obviously been infected, so tiny scratched that he had never bothered dealing with. He hopes the king will look away. He keeps his head down, but as he passes the king, he is stopped by a hand on the shoulder. His heart stops.   
"Baileywick. Prepare the royal bathroom." he said, turning Roland to face him and examining his new found treasure.   
"What's your name?" The king asks the slave, far to gently. Roland's mouth is dry and his tongue is useless. He stutters something unintelligible, but it may have been a plead to be allowed to go back to work because he doesn't fancy another long night of hauling rocks.   
The king clicks his tongue, and tilts Roland's head to the side slightly. He examines the marks there and then releases his neck. "Hm." He said, before deciding he'd seen what he wants to see and called over the man he'd hired the slaves from. "How much for this one?" He asked, with disdain staining his voice.  
the keeper shrugged slightly.   
"For you, your highness, free." The king sneered, and nodded.He started to walk away, willing for Roland to follow him. Once inside the kingdom, Roland's burnt skin felt relieved and his tired eyes seemed to shut half way.   
"Ah, King Cedric." Baileywick said, "Shall I bathe your newest purchase for you?" The king shook his head.   
"No, I don't know if I like him yet, Baileywick. " The king said. "I'll deal with him, then come to a conclusion. " Roland was used to being treated like an object, and and he frowned very slightly. 

If he was treated with any amount of kindness for any amount of time, then he realized that he'd not want to go back to his life. And he was scared. Baileywick however simply.   
"Of course your highness."   
The king led Roland to a huge, luxurious bathroom, and then sat up on the counter. "Strip." He ordered. Roland slowly stripped out of his clothes, and then folded up the dirty pants. The king nodded, and then beckoned him over with a finger. Roland approached, but didn't dare to touch the man. The king held up a straight razor, a small tub of some kind of cream. He smeared the cream on to Roland's face and then proceed to clear his face of the hair that had grown there.   
He blushed furiously.   
The process is long, and the king nicks him twice. he hardly notices the little pain compared to the huge pain's he's felt in his life. The king looks sad when he's done. "Hmm." He said, running his hand over Roland's bare cheek. "Get in the bath." He said, softly, pointing at the large tub of water.   
Roland complies, and is pleased that the water is neither hot nor cold, but pleasantly warm. After a moment, he even realizes that there are little flower petals drifting atop the rippling water.   
It's wonderful. The layers of grime seem to float off his dirty skin, and some of the greyness seems to have fled slightly. The water is now murky and he can no longer see himself in it. The king does not mind, and sits next to him on a high stool for some time.   
After a while, he's as clean as he can be, and the king assists him in standing again, and then has him dressed in simple tan leggings and a plain white shirt. He has not worn a shirt for some time and is quite impressed with how it feels on his skin.   
He tries not to be confused by the kindness, because he knows it will not last. This king, like all his others, will tire of him, or will have a cruel use for his poor body, and he will come to hate the man. That's how it's always been.   
The king looks him over again, and nods slowly, before leading him into a bedroom, so he's this kind of master then. He should have known.   
He should have known.   
No kindness was ever bestowed upon slaves without expecting something in return.   
Never. 

He slowly removed his shirt, and folded it neatly, while the King what ached, slightly amused. “That’s not necessary.” He said, softly. “I dressed you in night clothes for a reason. “ Night clothes? He hadn’t been able to tell the difference. He puts the shirt back on, and the King helps him on to the bed.   
The king takes up a chair next to the bed and observes him.   
“Do you have a name?” he asked. Roland looks at him dumbly before shaking his head.   
“You do. I know it.” He said, softly, “It’s Roland.” Frowning slightly Roland doesn’t know if he should listen or not. He knew that was his name and now he was going to be in trouble for lying.   
“Of course, I can understand why you would want to lie about such a thing, but in future, I think it’s best you don’t.” Roland nods, but still has nothing to say as the king sits back in his chair.  
“Do you know where you came from?” He asks.   
“Enchantia.” Roland replied.   
“Did you have a job?”   
“I forget.” Roland said, honestly. Cedric nodded slowly.   
“Slaves normally do.” he said, distantly. Roland sighed gently. The king stood up. “I’ll leave you to rest now.” He said, and turned away.   
Roland knew that this kindness wouldn't last, but he decided that he would take advantage of what was offered to him, and he fell asleep within minutes.   
He wakes up and the sky outside is dark. He must have slept the whole day away, the king will be furious with him, he thinks, standing, and remaking the bed. It's been some time since he last had to make the bed so he supposes it doesn't look that great, and yet he doesn't mind.   
He wanders to the large window, and looks out at the night sky. The stars twinkle mockingly at him, as if exploiting the freedom he so desperately wanted.   
He sits himself at a table and ponders over the king's intentions. Will be be warming the King's bed, or cleaning the castle? It all seems so unclear to him.   
~  
It's almost forty five minutes later when the King returns. He strips his clothes with no concern for Roland's eyes and changes into bed clothes. Roland stands to assist him but the King shakes his head. "Come, lie with him." He insists, bringing Roland to lie next to him on the bed.   
"I never really considered the ramifications of my actions." He admits to the servant, "I assumed you would be in some household some place caring for children." Roland wants to point out that men don't care for women, but he doubts that it would end well for him if he did. "I never thought I'd see you like this..." Roland tilts his head slightly but doesn't say anything. The king just sighs and rolls over.   
"I thought as much." He murmured. He rolled back after a moment to examine the man again. He puts one hand onto his cheek and gently feels the scars on his cheek.   
"What did you do to earn this?" He asks, gently.   
"Nothing, I was being punished for someone else. They broke the vase, and I attempted to help them clean it. It was meant to be a reminder, so I don't try and hide anything from my masters ever again." The king looks mournful for a moment. Of course Roland would have tried to help someone else, that was his nature.   
"I see. " He whispered. Roland seemed stiff with fear under his fingers, suddenly, as if he'd realized what was happening.   
"It worked." He whispered, "I never helped anyone...." He said, "Did what they said and only looked out for myself."   
With a small sigh, Cedric ran his fingers over his face again. "Good night." He said, softly.   
Roland sighed gently and let his eyes fall shut, despite having already slept away most of his day.  
~  
Days pass. He begins to become used to his life as the castle. During the day he is expected to remain in the library and read books. At night he is expected to sleep next to the king. It's a cold and bitter castle, much like the king himself, but he adjusts.   
He always does.   
~


End file.
